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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429034">Sometimes it's Okay to Cry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFreak611/pseuds/FanFreak611'>FanFreak611</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Psych (TV 2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s07eo7 Deez Nups, F/M, Gen, deez nups made me sad, kind of shules but like sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:42:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFreak611/pseuds/FanFreak611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliet O'Hara does not like to cry but certain circumstances calls for some tears. </p><p>Tag to Deez Nups.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sometimes it's Okay to Cry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's my first psych fic! I first posted this on psychfic.net so feel free to check it out there too. Anyways, it's my first time through the show and the end of Deez Nups hurt me so I guess this story spawned out of that. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Juliet O’Hara did not like to cry. She wasn’t sure if it was due to growing up with only brothers or spending so much time on the force but either way crying was not something she did regularly. To her, it showed weakness, vulnerability, something she couldn’t afford in her line of work. True, there were times when it seemed appropriate, whether it was to mourn her supposedly dead step-father or when her life had just been dangled off of the edge of a clock tower. These times she allowed the tears to fall, for the emotions to seize their escape. Now, as she sat in the driver's seat of her green VW Beetle, head buried in her arms, her tears beginning to soak through her dress, she decided that this was one of those rare times. </p><p>He. Had. Lied. </p><p>It wasn’t so much that he wasn’t psychic- that she could live with- it was the fact that for the past seven years, two of which they had been dating, he had lied to her. He put on his little charade, danced about the room, always hovering two fingers near his temple in some sort of grand gesture to seal the show and she had fallen right for it. She let herself be swept up in his charm, his good looks, his jokes, and never thought twice about who he really was. She gave her heart to him and he had taken it gladly, all while hiding his true self. In a cruel twist of irony, she wondered briefly if this was how her mother had felt with Frank. Maybe this was an O’Hara family curse, to fall blindly for someone who would lie and deceive them. </p><p>Her mind refused to stop replaying those five horrifically life-changing minutes, causing her to relive every twisted and angry emotion. The way her stomach dropped as she pulled the ticket out of his jacket pocket, how her mind raced to connect the dots despite her silent protests. The burning anger when her questions were met with silence and looks of desperation. The heartbreak and devastation, all too much like a punch to the gut, when she realized that it truly was all a lie. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop reliving it, couldn’t stop seeing the look in his eyes when he asked her to not make him say it. The coward wouldn’t even admit it to her now, couldn’t even say the truth to her face. </p><p>She slammed back into the seat, the motion throwing her head back, her eyes still closed as images flashed before her. Her fist bashed into the side of the steering wheel, a fresh spout of anger rushing through her. That’s what he was, a liar and a coward. A deceiver who was more than aware of her past. Who knew how much she valued trust and yet did nothing to preserve that. </p><p>What hurt the most is that she had loved him, maybe even still did. Just a few hours earlier she had laid her head against his shoulder and dreamed about what their wedding may look like. She had seen a future with him but now- a loud sob escaped her lips- now she couldn’t see anything except for that face. His lying face, his eyes wide and afraid as he begged her, begged her not to make him admit the truth. </p><p>Her brain played through those moments for what felt like the hundredth time, this time, however, it chose to settle on a different part of that night, the words reverberating in her mind. <i> “Falling in love with you was never part of the plan." </i> She let out a curt laugh. She wasn’t even part of the plan. He hadn’t expected to fall for her, she’d give him that, but he did. He did fall for her and as he fell, he dragged her in with his lies. He may have been in love with her but he clearly didn’t love her enough to tell her the truth.</p><p>A tiny part of her wished she hadn’t found that darn ticket. That she had just contently worn his jacket without ever putting her hands in the pockets. They probably would have danced into the early morning and went home together, arm in arm, a little drunk but very much in love. But another part, the more logical part of her, knew better. Knew that if she hadn’t found out tonight, she would have found out later. Maybe sometime down the road where the damage would be worse. Where finding out would have hurt even more than it already did- and it hurt a whole hell of a lot right now. </p><p>She shook her head, her tears gliding down the sides of her face and slipping off of her cheeks to land softly onto her hair and dress. He should have told her. She didn’t know exactly when a good time would have been, maybe at the beginning of their relationship or when their friendship had proved to be a little bit more, but she really didn’t care. Anytime would have been better than now. They had been dating for almost two years, were way past “I love yous.” They had moved in together for pete's sake! They had shared their life together, it wasn’t just “him or her,” it was “them.” And while all of this was going on, while she had thought she had unlocked the mature side of Shawn Spencer, he was really just a child. A horrible, lying, refused to show any maturity, child. </p><p>At last her mind shifted from the disastrous evening, this time to go through all the moments when he had shown off his “psychic ways.” She wanted to figure out how she could have been so fooled. She was a detective gosh darn it, why hadn’t she seen past his charade? To be honest, she wanted to pin it all on him, tell herself that he was just too good at deceiving her but she knew deep down that she had wanted to be fooled. She wanted to believe him and so she did. </p><p>Frustrated at him... at herself... at the world…, she wasn’t exactly sure anymore, she swiped at her tears. She knew she probably looked like a wreck right now with her smudged makeup and tear-stained dress but she didn’t care. Her brain betrayed her, made her think that if Shawn was here right now he would say something about how she still managed to look beautiful despite her tears. She gave a flat laugh at the thought and glanced at the backseat where his suit jacket lay in a crumpled mess. It had been angrily discarded the minute she got to her car. Between the smell and the source of warmth, it reminded her too much of him. </p><p>She suddenly became all too aware of her location and glanced at the building where the reception was being held. She couldn’t stay here. Each minute that passed was another opportunity for someone to come out and find her in her weakest, most vulnerable state. She didn’t want to go home though, not because he would be there. No, he was too smart to have gone to their- no, her- home. But it still felt much too painful to go back to the big empty house. There she’d have to put her heels next to his much bigger shoes, have to smell his scent on everything and sleep in a now considerably larger bed. There were so many reminders of him there and she felt the burning to just run far far away. She shook her head. Running away was not something she could do. She had a job and rent to pay. But she also couldn’t just sleep in her car and interacting with any sort of hotel staff in her current state was totally out of the question. </p><p>With reluctance, she started her engine, a plan of sorts forming in her head. She decided that she would go home, would cry some more and then eventually succumb to a hopefully not too fitful sleep. Then, in the morning, she would not shed any more tears over him and would figure out what she needed to do next. She would move into the future, even if it was a future without him.</p>
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